Domestic Advice to a Divorced Friend

Learn to cook. Yes, I know—mealtimes can be lonely
as closets, but you fall in love with waitresses
far too often (three times in one day once, very sincerely
each time). The breakfast girl seduces you with Eggs Benedict;
you feel like a traitor to the blond who served you
Veal Marsala the night before.

Learn to handle independence. Get organized.Go easy on the booze and, for God’s sake,
clean out that refrigerator. All those re-sealed cartons and jars,
some untouched for a year. Look at this—the fossilized remains
of blue cheese dressing. Put a warning sign on the door.

Learn to iron, or tell friends you’re changing your image
to the macho rumpled look. And stop trying to foldthat damned fitted sheet. Yes, I know it can be done;
it was folded when you bought it, but I hate to see it
waft over the bed, only to fill with air
like a parachute and collapse into a different
amorphous wad each time. Folding it flat
is unnatural. A sheet-ball fits just fine in the closet.

–refers to the word divorce in Dawn Corrigan’s short fiction piece Golden